


Survivor's Guilt

by littleyounggun



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Death, Garry (Ib) - Freeform, Garry - Freeform, Gen, Ib (Game) - Freeform, Ib - Freeform, Mary (Ib) - Freeform, Mary - Freeform, aaaaaaaangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleyounggun/pseuds/littleyounggun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Embodiment of the Spirit" - a rose was fitting. Delicate, fragile, but with an instinct to protect oneself from pain and an astounding ability to cause it. Garry knew this, understood it. But that was one thing. Experiencing it was a whole other story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor's Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a while. HAVE SOME IB AND GARRY ANGST.  
> There is one F-bomb.

Garry knew right off the bat that Ib was a tough little girl.  


At least, after it was determined that she was not, in fact, another painting with an intense desire to pluck his petals.  


With a red and blue rose held in separate hands, both flowers intact and bright and elegant, it was respect, admiration, and gratitude that flowed through him - emotions he hoped he could portray in a way Ib's nine year-old mind could easily understand. It was the least he could do. Thanking her wouldn't be enough.  


She had saved his life.  


Him, Garry, an absolute stranger to her. She stuck out her neck for him, not only by retrieving his literal life-line from a monstruous painting, but also by trusting the unconscious stranger blindly, putting her faith in the kindness of people. Ib, after all, had no indication as to what type of person Garry could have been.  


Yet out the kindness of her heart, the pureness of her spirit, or even the innocence of her childhood, she had revived him. She had taken the time and risk to remove his pain, had given him reason to continue once again.  


He owed Ib everything.  


Although she had more than proved her strength already, Garry promised to himself to return the favor, pay his debt. He assigned himself as her protector. She was courageous, yes, but he simply could not let her continue running off all by herself, for her sake and even his own.  


Eventually, as they travelled together, the self-appointed duty morphed into a genuine desire on his part. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but Garry vowed he would protect Ib with his life, the one that she in turn had saved for him. He lived because of her and would die for her in a heartbeat.  


His life going both ways in the hands of a child - reserved and strong, but still cute and innocent. Even in this twisted world, he wouldn't have it any other way.  


The devotion Garry had developed for Ib in their time together, however, didn't change their current predicament. They had just managed to escape the room with the painting of Ib's parents, her reaction to it another blaring reminder of how young she still was underneath her calm nature.  


Ib's small, slender hand was clutched tightly in Garry's scarred one as they zipped past the stumbling statues and hissing paintings. The sounds of their dragging frames surrounding them was unbearable, adding onto the building panic of losing another petal.  


He didn't even know how many he had left. The pain zinged through him, but he ignored it as best he could, cringing and pulling Ib along, urging her forward, faster. For a second he worried the constant tugging was hurting her, but as another statue lashed at him with the sharp claws she had for fingers, Garry decided he could worry about it later. Right now they had to survive.  


Finally, an open door. Safety. His sole focus was straight ahead, a clear path, a perfect getaway, when his arm suddenly jerked backwards. His heart raced when he felt Ib's hand slip out of his.  


"IB!" Quickly turning back, he collapsed onto his knees in front of the young girl. She was on all fours, head bowed, breath ragged. He grasped her shoulders, willing her to get up, but she simply tensed and a cry fell from her mouth.  


A memory of lying on the floor, hands attempting to massage his shoulders, slipped into his mind like a pebble in a pond.  


Her stem was gripped tightly in one hand. A single delicate petal was holding on for dear life. Tears welled up in crimson eyes. "Garry...I don't...I can't..."  
Resolve melted into a mix of adrenaline and determination. He whispered a quick apology for the pain he would probably induce as he scooped her up in his arms and pumped his legs to the door.  


He wasn't going to let this happen. They'd gotten so far. And this...this was Ib. It couldn't happen this way. It wasn't going to.  


The resounding slam of the door snapped him back into the present. They had made it.  


They now found themselves in a hallway with paintings of pale white faces hung up on one wall. As they seemed to make no move, Garry paid them no mind. His eyes darted around, looking for a vase, only to mumble curses when he found none.  


The tiny body in his arms jerked with a sob, and Garry's heart ached in a way he had never felt before. He could feel her biting back more which made the knot in his own throat tighten.  
As gently as he could, he melted into the ground, setting her down so she could be more comfortable, but she only clung to him anyway. Her fingers dug into his jacket.  


Garry's eyes glued themselves to the last petal, dangling dangerously. Ib trembled.  


"Ib-"  


The sobs spilled out, body quaking. She choked on her breath, still trying in vain to restrain her utter fear and panic. She pulled herself onto Garry's lap, burying her face in her neck. He could feel the warm wetness on his skin as he cradled her, rocking back and forth, tears of his own spilling over.  


Ib hiccuped. "G-Garry, I don't-" She choked more, coughing. The new warmth on his skin made his heart clench. "I don't want- want to d-die."  


A pain so deep pulled him inside out, stretching and snapping him like a mere rubber band. An overwhelming urge to scream with no voice, to cry with no eyes, to bleed with no life.  
He held her tighter.  


"I-I want- my momma and papa, Garry, p-please!"  


It took everything in him not to sob along with her. He continued rocking her back and forth, smoothing her hair, making strained shooshing sounds he hoped would somewhat comfort her. "Ib...Ib..."  


What could he possibly say? He couldn't lie. He couldn't tell the truth. He was getting dizzy. The adrenaline was fading, the pain was ebbing back, doubling the emotional disaster happening outside and inside him.  


A nine year-old girl cried in his arms, sobbing out now incoherent words.  


She was just a child. He owed her everything.  


Somehow, by sheer force of will, by an absolute miracle, Garry was on his feet with Ib in his arms. She clung to him, and he trudged forward, forcing heavy feet to move . "Let's-let's find a vase. C'mon, Ib, let's find a vase."  


Having worn herself out, Ib cried quietly, body occasionally jerking. "G-Garry, I can feel it... f-falling."  


He turned the corner of the hallway. No vase. His stomach dropped.  


"Garry..." A hand slid onto his cheek as wide blue eyes stared down the corridor. Ib was even quieter now, sobs dissolving into occasional hiccups, water breaths. "I don't-" Hiccup. "-want you to leave me."  


His eyes snapped to her. "Never," he said with absolute certainty.  


A shuddering breath. "Then...then I don't want to leave you all-all alone."  


The panic threatened to rise once again, kicking him back into motion. Growling, "there's got to be a vase around here!"  


"I'm sorry..." she whispered.  


Garry guffawed, head thrown back, loud and humorless, black. His features darkened. "No." He moved faster. "Don't say silly things, Ib. You...You've got nothing to apologize for. If anything I..." He stumbled. "You saved me, Ib."  


There was a frightening silence in which Garry had to shake her gently before she replied with a mumbled, "I'm glad I did." She hummed thoughtfully. "I'm getting sleepy, Garry."  


"Fuck. No, you have to keep your eyes open, ya hear me, Ib? Stay awake, Ib!!" Every part of his being ached, flared with hurt, but he continued his frantic search for the life-saving water.  


Ib's grip on him was slackening. "I think...I think it's okay. I really...really...do..."  


He risked a peek at her face. She was smiling softly, eyes slipping shut. He shook her. "Ib, c'mon, open up." His voice became thick. "Let me see your beautiful eyes, Ib." Vision blurred.  


A red petal floated gracefully to the ground.  


Garry could no longer hold himself up. On his knees, he held her limp body, searching her face for movement, anything, any sign that she...that she wasn't...  


"Oh God, Ib..." He hunched over her figure, emotion wracking his body. He couldn't breathe, like coils wrapping up tightly around him, winding round and round until his eyes were bulging. He thought he would burst, his eyeballs would pop.  


And then.  


The pressure released and Garry broke.  


Sobbing and pleading and smoothing her hair and scrunching her clothes. Nothing roused her. Not his gasping breaths, his desperate cries.  


Guilt and sorrow hung on him so heavily. How could he ever walk again? How could he even attempt to leave this spot? Leave behind this little girl who, at the very end, decided to be strong? Who had every reason to continue wailing in fear and crying for her parents, and instead decided to reassure Garry, to try and save him once more.  


The way he couldn't do to her.  


Pain he could have never before fathomed overwhelmed him. Ringing ears, spotty vision. He now understood what people meant when they said a part of themselves had died along with someone else.  


From one moment to the next, he'd lost everything - control of his emotions, a desire to continue.  


Ib.  


A few hallways over, a blonde girl wondered what all the ruckus was about.

**Author's Note:**

> Because when ever I ran into a game over, I wondered what happened to Garry.


End file.
